How Lily Evans Got Kissed, Got Wild and Got a Life
by JaneyWrenDC
Summary: Lily Evans - she's a little too uptight,likes rules and harbours a secret Mills and Boon obsession. She hates James Potter. Which is bad as he'd do absolutely anything to get her in a broom closet. What happens when a switching spell intervenes?


A/N: For someone who reminds me so much of an egotistical, girl mad James Potter he needed to be recorded on paper where I could vent about him.

LILY

My first kiss was with the guy I hated the most in the world – ironic huh?

James Potter, arch nemesis, evil toerag, creator of all problems…

Yet still annoyingly handsome at the same time.

Eugh.

Of all the people I would have picked for my first kiss he would definitely not have been in the top one million, let alone the first choice. He was egotistical, enjoyed terrorising the school and had the boy never heard of a brush for god's sake? Did he really think that looking as though a bird has nested in his hair was attractive? I swear you could see bits of twigs and leaves sticking out of it occasionally….or was that more of a testament to the fact he gave a whole new meaning to the term bird brain. Not only that but he swaggered as well! Swaggered! Who did that nowadays? Did he think he was some sort of Hogwarts pimp or something – is that why he felt the need to roll his hips, slick back his hair and try and exude charm every time he walked past any girls? Wasn't it enough to just put one foot in front of the other without falling down? Why did he feel the need to look like Elvis with cockroaches down his trousers?

Teenage boys were the pits…smelly, egotistical miscreants the lot of them.

I wanted nothing to do with them yet unfortunately I was surrounded by them…there was certainly no Mr Darcy amongst this bunch of idiots and it almost made a girl give up any hope of romance. Jane Austen should have visited Hogwarts and it may have altered her views on handsome men, love and general happiness. Even Lizzie with her sarcastic nature and unshakable nerves of steel would have run screaming from the place at the first sight of a Slytherin squeezed into his school uniform as he attacked his breakfast. Or a certain boy, with black hair, glasses and about so high would have made her realise that a troll would have been more preferable to marry.

Yucky Potter with his ridiculous hair, girl fan club and stupid snitch that kept trying to get down my top.

I hated James Potter.

It said so on one of the statues on the third floor.

Potter had thought it would be clever to write, 'James Potter loves Lily Evans,' in a declaration of his love that would stand the test of time in fluorescent orange writing….I'd given it the old Lily Evans magical touch and changed it to something a little more fitting.

He still hadn't seen that I'd changed it; I was really tempted to tell him and see him get angry in that way he does, getting all puffed up, red in the face and booming out angry insults at anyone – it always made me laugh. He looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel, or rupture an artery or something vaguely life threatening. It would definitely be worth the trouble, detentions and angry outburst I was likely to receive when he discovered what I'd done…yet knowing my luck he probably would only think it was a declaration of my love and try and kiss me again.

Double eugh.

The boy had some sort of kissing tourettes – that would have explained it all nicely. It seemed he possessed no other mission in life but to try and plant his lips against mine and try and break some world snogging record, a title most likely held by his cohort Black. Every time Potter saw me, his face would light up, he'd lick his lips in a way he thought was enticing and before I knew what was coming or had time to run he'd swoop down and plant his lips on mine. He'd clasp my head in his hands, crush my body to his and if I was feeling rather dazed he'd even try and cop a feel.

Hence the great slapping and hexing massacre of fourth year.

I mean sure, he could be chivalrous when he wanted. He once picked a bunch of roses for me – sadly they'd been the flesh eating kind – and he always held doors open for me, although more often than not he tried to trip me up. Once he even gave up his seat for me and even more strangely he once turned off the Quidditch scores on the radio after only the fourth time I'd yelled at him.

Hmm…when you put it like that he sounds strangely romantic…

No Lily Evans, don't EVEN go there.

Potter…trolls….idiots….monstrous….

Ok, I'm back to my happy hating place again.

He just makes me sooooooooooooooo mad. Mad enough to go against the protocols of the English language and ruin words by adding extra letters to emphasise the emphasis I need to emphasise about how much I hate him.

And trust me, that is a crime I don't commit willingly.

He's a devil, he's a demon, he's ….

Quite attractive actually, but we'll keep that a very well hidden secret.

How do you solve a problem like James Potter? How do you stop him trying to look down your gown? How do you ensure he avoids you and doesn't kiss you?

He's a knobhead, he's a demon….he's a clown.

Stupid Sound of Music – it's impacting on my vocabulary again. Yet my alternate Potter centred version does have a certain ring to it, especially the knobhead bit – I think I hit on just the perfect word there that describes him in all his glory. Yes, I'm sure that if someone looked up the term in the dictionary, James Potter would have been its definition.

I really need to stop thinking about him, its destroying all the good things I used to enjoy in life. Next I'll start singing Potter in the sky with diamonds and the Beatles will have been ruined for me as well. I'm fully aware of the fact I think about him 90% of the time but only 10% is actually nice things about him. I tried writing a diary once but after realising how much I wrote about Potter I thought that it wasn't really safe to have something like that lying around, some girls might get the wrong impression. Not that they didn't believe I was in love with him already – apparently denial is the first step, or so Potter keeps telling them – I just didn't want them to feel they now had proof of the matter.

My life at Hogwarts had been plagued by James Potter for as long as I could remember – a day didn't go by without him trying to enforce his charm upon me, or sometimes something even worse, usually involving his hands and glances down my top.

The first time I met James Potter he was running down the corridor of the train with a pair of ladies underwear on his head. Pink, lacy and with a floral motif as the decorative pattern they contrasted sharply with the scruffy boy legging it down the corridor for all it was worth with his companions following and laughing manically to themselves, as they were hotly pursued by what appeared to be half the train.

I, nose in book and trying to find a compartment to sit in, had unfortunately been in the way. Before I knew what was happen my concentration had been ripped from the fascinating description of the rugged Lord Henderson and the affect he was having on Miss Timms, and I was laying spread-eagled on the floor, skirt askew and my Minnie mouse knickers on show for the world to see.

Or almost anyway, four eleven year old boys had thought it would a good idea to use me as a pillow to cushion their landing and luckily obscured them from view. Although I don't know if you can really call it lucky when they were essentially crushing you.

"Ugh get off me!" I'd cried gasping for breath, only to find elbows lodged themselves in placed God only intended to be treated nicely. Four smelly, scruffy boys with knickers on their heads frantically tried to untangle themselves from one another, only to propel their leader further into me.

"Well hello there," he'd smiled down at me, eyes raised as his hand brushed my chest thanks to a knock from his friend. "And how is your fine self this very fine day?"

"Get off me you imbecile!" I'd hissed through gritted teeth, reaching up to smack his hand away from the trail it was making. Really, weren't eleven year old boys still meant to be at the stage where girls were icky?

This one certainly didn't follow that trend.

"Why rush something that I'm enjoying?" He'd queried. "This is a perfectly comfortable place to lie; I think I may stay here for the rest of the journey."

Before I knew what was happening his lips, two writhing pink caterpillars, were swooping down towards mine. Just as they were about to make contact and I fought the urge to retch as the knickers on his head tickled my nose, he was levitating in the air.

An admirable feat, I had thought – it gave a new meaning to love sending you walking on air.

But sadly whatever magical abilities I thought he possessed were quashed when I realised the stupid boy was not rising on the waves of love….but being lifted off me by two burly seventh year boys who had just been chasing him down the corridor.

"Think stealing our girl's knickers is fun?" one of them had snarled. "You're about to learn a new meaning for the word fun."

Ah well, at least I hadn't had to punish them.

"But-but," the boy who had been laying across me had spluttered. "I was just in the middle of something. Can you just wait a few minutes whilst I sort out my business?"

Their response had been to growl threateningly and carry him off in the direction his other friends had just been carted off in.

"I'm James Potter by the way," he'd called as he was being dragged down the hall. "I'm sure I'll be seeing a lot more of you in the future!"

Sadly his prophecy had been correct.

Not only were we in the same year, but for some reason that many stupid old hat that talked had thought it would be hilarious to put us both in the same house – its words being, and I quote, 'because in this house you'll learn to have some fun and find true love' and then the silly hat went on to counsel me and tell me I needed to relax, stop reading Mills and Boon and not obsess over following the rules all the time. Words my mother, my father, my grandmother, my doctor, my teacher and every other person who knew my strange habits had told me zillions of time already.

This all meant, by some cruel twist of fate or that broken mirror four years ago meant I was constantly plagued by Potter's presence. When I got up in the morning, when I ate breakfast, in the common room, in all of my lessons and even once when I went to the girls bathroom because he'd got lost. I couldn't shake him off; he was always there whether I wanted him to be or not and most of the time I really didn't want him to be.

All my interactions with Potter were memorable; the Venus fly trap incident, the cursing the tables to break out into song and declare their love for me fiasco and many many more….but perhaps non more so that a particular incident in the third year, remembered happily by Potter, hideously by me, recounted laughingly by Sirius and commemorated with the large photographic evidence still stuck by a sticking charm to a pillar in the Common Room.

The first time he 'properly' kissed me I was thirteen, innocent and still under the impression holding hands with a boy was the height of coolness and daring. The sweaty palms, the locked fingers – to me that was the most romantic, light-headed inducing feeling in the world….and considering up until two years ago I'd thought this was a way to make babies it made it even more risky. Yes I was naïve, yes I still blushed if my body accidentally brushed up against other boys but lets face it, I didn't have much else to base anything on. My parents had thought it best to shelter Tuny and I, considering some of the disreputable boys that roamed out neighbourhood. So when I entered my second year of Hogwarts I was still fully unaware of the crimes a secluded corner, a groping hand, a mouth, a tongue and a very hormonal boy could commit in the space of thirty seconds.

I had been innocently walking down the staircase towards the main hall, contemplating the latest chapter of Aristotle I had read (whoever would have guessed he was actually a wizard) and quite blissfully contemplating reading the letter my mother had just sent me, when a loud wolf whistle behind me caused me to turn round.

And came face to face with Potter.

"Yes?" I queried, raising an eyebrow and clutching my book tighter to my chest protectively.

"Hello Evans," he smiled sweetly and sidled up to me, trying to feign innocence. If I hadn't known him better – and sadly I knew him too well – I'd have assumed his halo was glinting in the sunlight.

"What do you want Potter?" I narrowed my eyes as he approached, hands behind his back and looking so docile and charming that he appeared to be about to break into a tuneful whistle any second.

Which would have been preferable to what happened next.

"Oh nothing," he avoided my gaze and tried to wave off my question. "Except-"

Instead of completing his sentence his next few words had been cut off by him planting his lips to mine and my book dropping heavily to the ground and causing a dull thud.

As first kisses went it wasn't that exciting, it didn't really add up to the hype or dreamy romance that Mills and Boon went on about. No handsome stallion clasping me in his arms, declaring his undying love or a rugged Lord wishing to whisk me away to his castle….I was just lumped with bloody Potter and his scratchy birds nest hair and broken glasses digging into my nose. There was no riding the passionate wave of love as lips met and breath mingled, no fireworks going off overhead and definitely no tingles going through my body. Instead it was….

Wet.

Really wet actually; quite sloppy and salivary. Wondering what I was supposed to do with my lips and still in a little shock, I stayed stone still and blinked my eyes wide. Was I supposed to angle my head a bit, give him more access? Was I supposed to move my lips as well and hold onto his neck or something? I hated being clueless about these things – there was only so much a book could tell you, in practice things were far different to how authors depicted them in soppy novels.

Whilst I was a bit doubtful and confused, Potter was really having a good time of it it seemed, moving his lips in haste over mine in quite a drooly mess. He clearly had kissed lots of girls judging by the moves he was performing, but I wouldn't say he was a brilliant kisser judging by his haste and his lack of concern over whether I was enjoying his display. His eyes were closed, his breath kept coming out in quick bursts and he seemed thoroughly unconcerned that I wasn't kissing him back. As long as he was having a good time, who cared that the girl in his arms was in agony thanks to his glasses smashing into her nose or the fact she was remaining unresponsive. Actually should I be kissing him back? Was I kissing him back now? Was this all girls had to do – just lay back and let the men do all the work? Was this an aspect of life women's lib hadn't penetrated yet?

Not any the wiser thanks to my 'partners' lack of concern with my state, being more interested in his own pleasure, I was just about to peel myself away and try and find an answer to my load of questions when the whole separation thing happened far sooner than anticipated.

A flash went off by my side, sending my vision into a dizzy whirl of colour and making it hard to distinguish anything. Ears ringing a little, clouded in a burst of purple smoke and lips having just been removed from Potter's with a wet squelching sound that reminded me of a frog, I couldn't do much else but look dazed and confused.

And then the reality of the situation began to sink in…..

Wait – this was James-aren't-I-an-amazing-Quidditch-player-oh-look-I'm-so-hot-everyone-wants-to-be-me-Potter.

Icky Potter.

Icky gross Potter who'd just tried to play tonsil tennis with me.

Groaning in disgust, my eyes widened in alarm and I pushed him away from me as fast as I could. Watching him stumble away from me with a happy, blissful smirk on his face I frantically scrubbed at my tongue.

"Nice one Evans," Potter grinned at me before giving a wink. "Lots of good snogging potential there."

Wrinkling my nose at his crudeness, I wiped the back of my hand over my mouth to remove the salivary mess he had left behind. Eugh, my mouth was all wet and sticky and I swear I could feel a dent in my nose where his glasses had dug in.

"Potter you flaming idiot what the hell was that for?!" I roared, clenching my fingers by my side as the urge to strangle him began to take over. My hands rising, unable to fight the need to slap him around the ears any longer I was distracted by the sight of a quivering wreck to my right.

"Black?" I raised an eyebrow at the gasping, tear ridden form holding onto the wall for dear life. Was the boy having a fit or something? Was I supposed to help – my first aid training may have been able to help….although I wasn't exactly sure what was wrong with him? Would the Heimlich manoeuvre do? I bloody well wasn't doing the kiss of life – Potter could do that, they seemed close enough that it didn't seem like they'd be repulsed by it. "What on earth is wrong with you?"

But he merely waved a hand, continued shaking and collapsed into a heap on the floor, quivering all over. Christ he must have been having a pretty serious fit…ah, if only his fan girls could have seen him then.

"Look Black, are you alright?" I rushed forward and touched his writhing body with the tip of my shoe, Potter and the kissing conundrum forgotten in the face of saving Black from whatever had overtaken him.

Black didn't react, he merely continued rolling around on the floor and not quite sure of what to do next, I crouched down next to him and turned him over to face me….getting the biggest shock of my life.

The bloody git was laughing….laughing! Here was I thinking he was dying from some sort of epic fit and all he had a was the giggles – quite girlish, high pitched giggles actually. Not something you would have expected Sirius Black to come out with – although judging by his obsession with mirrors it wasn't really that surprising.

"Black you loathsome git faced pillock!" my that was a foul expletive rant. I gaped in shock at what had just come from my mouth before shaking my head, coming back to my senses and smacking him soundly round the head.

"You should have seen your face!" Sirius gasped out between his giggles.

"You should see your face after I'm finished with you," I reached forward to clobber him again, nails bared in attack mode and wanting to do as much damage as possible. I'd just managed to hit his nose and extract a yelp from him when two strong arms reached behind me and dragged me off kicking and screaming.

"Potter get off me now!" I wriggled free from his grasp, elbowing him in the stomach as I did so.

"Ooph," he groaned, rubbing the spot I had injured.

"What the hell were you two doing?" I whirled round on them both. "What is going on here? Why did Potter kiss me? Why was Black there? Is he some sort of voyeur – is this what you two get up to? Oh please don't tell me your engaged in some weird-"

"Lily shut up," Sirius sighed, giggling stopped as he rose to a sitting position. "It's nothing of the sort. Whilst I am indeed a fan of the female form, I prefer to sample such delicacies on my own and without having to watch my friend here instead."

"Then what was all of it about?" I asked worried. "I can assure you I don't go around kissing men willy nilly."

Or at least I hadn't in the past….who knew what all this commotion would spark off in my future.

"Thanks for helping me win a bet there," Potter grabbed my hand and placed a kiss on my knuckles. Thoroughly annoyed, pissed off, on the verge of a temper tantrum – you name it, I felt it – I yanked my hand away and tried to wipe his kiss from my hand onto my robes.

"I was a bet?" I spat. Oh all the things to hear, of all the compliments to have been paid in the face of my kiss that really wasn't what I wanted. In all the romances I'd read – and trust me, I'd read a lot – this wasn't how the heroine was supposed to have been treated after a passionate embrace….not that it could really have been called passionate…wet more like. Where were my compliments, the sweet nothings whispered in my ear?

Where was my rugged, handsome, drool worthy Prince Charming?

"Well….er….not a bet exactly," Potter realised his mistake and scratched his head awkwardly.

"It was a bet," Sirius spoke bluntly, trying to straighten his clothes as he stood up. "Potter said he could stomach kissing any girl in the school and I bet him that he wouldn't kiss the next girl that walked along the corridor."

He could stomach kissing any girl…..the toad.

"Er…well….it wasn't quite like that," Potter looked even more uncomfortable. "I mean….I did want to kiss you and everything. I mean if it was Dorcas or someone I wouldn't have agreed to it so readily…Linda Matthews I may have kissed if I was feeling like it….but no; you were a good choice in my mind."

Oh, that really made it better.

"Plus Remus had already told him he would never be able to get you to kiss him," Sirius continued on, oblivious to exactly what his words were doing to my anger. "So I volunteered to come along and take a picture in case he happened to come across you – which he did – as evidence. Killing two birds with one stone, didn't you say mate?"

"Sirius mate you aren't exactly helping much," James muttered in an undertone as he eyed me cautiously, noticing the manic gleam in my eye.

"I was a bet….no wait two bet's that have photographic evidence?" I took a small step forward. If these two boys had possessed any brain cells between them they'd have realised it would have been in their better interests to have fun as far away and as fast as possible. Nothing was more scary, ferocious and murderous than a woman scorned.

"Eer……technically I guess." Potter gulped as I drew up close to him, . "But let's not focus on what has been….let's just focus on the fact we kissed and it was very enjoyable."

"It really wasn't," I pulled a face. "As first kisses go it really wasn't what I'd expected. Certainly nothing to write home about."

"I was your first kiss," Potter brightened happily and plastered a big grin upon his face. He moved happily forward to me, arms outstretched as though he wanted a repeat performance.

"It's not something to be proud of, if that was what kissing was like I can safely say I will never partake in it ever again," I snapped, moving back and smacking his arms out of the way.

Sirius broke out laughing again, only to be silenced by a look from James.

"A bad day for Potter here then," Sirius clapped his friend on the back, causing his whole body to shake under the impact.

"Hey, I'm a great kisser thank you," Potter looked affronted.

"Or so your teddy bear says," Sirius mumbled in an undertone that luckily wasn't picked up by his friend.

"You are so dispacable, you're rotten, you're-" I spluttered trying to think of the right insulting words.

Water off a duck's back, judging by his reaction.

"Handsome, charming, hot, fit?" Potter suggested, preening slightly making me really want to get violent, something I wasn't prone to do.

So in the face of such a shook I did what any other self respecting girl would have done….

I punched him in the jaw.

If we pause here, on this trip down memory lane, in this scene where the hatred I felt towards Potter really began to take hold, I hope you'll see when it all began. My life with James Potter had never been simple; he was the terror that enjoyed making my life miserable under the pretext of trying to grope under my skirt or stare down my top. James Potter was my enemy and someone I would have gladly avoided for the rest of my life…

But judging by what happened next fate was never on my side.

It took him six months to work up the courage to kiss me again….or I think it was courage he needed anyway. He'd been avoiding me quite a lot in the time between and had taken to blushing and moving out of my way when I approached.

The solitude was quite perfect actually.

Just as I'd been about to kiss Ryan James on the lips, leaning forward to try and pretend this was my real first kiss and not the shoddy attempt Potter had bestowed, the mood suddenly changed and before I knew it the boy I had locked lips with had changed…

Into James Potter.

My first kiss may have been with the boy I hated….but I still wanted to go on kissing him anyway.

A/N: Did you like? I hadn't planned on writing this story at all but I had quite a lot of inspiration for this last week and felt the need to write it. The next chapter will be from James's view. I thought it was a bit rushed and my dialogue was pretty rubbish but I hope you like.

Please please please review!

Disclaimer: I do not own Mills and Boon and the song Lily adapted was How do you solve a problem like Maria? from the Sound of Music which I also don't own.


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